


A Breath of Liberty

by chippy8833



Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chippy8833/pseuds/chippy8833
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What might have happened if Maurice and Clive hadn't been so rudely interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Breath of Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ty Nash for inspiring me to write this. Hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> [Now in Chinese!](http://tieba.baidu.com/p/4452223348?share=9105) (Thanks to SeaGloria for the translation)

Maurice had had a rotten vac, and he hadn’t even known it until he returned to college. He didn’t even know why it was rotten, but back in his room with Clive, he was certain it had been absolutely miserable. And Clive’s hadn’t been much better, as he had obviously been unwell. They were awkward with each other now, thanks to the time spent apart, and it made Maurice feel sullen and petulant. He flopped into his wicker chair and sighed heavily. Clive sat down on the floor, out of arm’s reach. Why was he so far away? Maurice stretched out his hand and said, “I say, Durham-” But before he could finish the thought, Clive’s head nuzzled against his hand, as if he had been waiting for the invitation. He stroked his hair from temple to throat. Clive rested his head against Maurice’s knee and absently curled an arm around his calf. Was Clive his friend? Maurice wondered. The Symposium came to his mind and floated around like a daydream. And it felt like a dream when Clive reached up and caressed his hair, and when he sat on the edge of the chair and clasped and hugged him tight. It was only when he felt Clive’s heart beating against his own chest that Maurice understood this was real. Their cheeks touched. Maurice thought he heard his name called from far away, but it might have been another dream.

Before he quite knew what was happening, Maurice felt Clive’s breath on his lips. His head was spinning. And then their lips met. Clive cupped Maurice’s face with both hands and Maurice grabbed fistfuls of Clive’s vest at his sides. Past and future ceased to exist. All that was left was this moment and Maurice and Clive in it. It didn’t even occur to Maurice to question whether this was right or wrong. There was no such thing. All that mattered was that he was here with his friend and his friend was like him. Maurice felt Clive’s tongue touch his. This was unheard of to him, but it was stirring up new feelings inside him and spinning them into a frenzy. He felt a warmth spreading throughout his body, not comforting and serene, but powerful and pulsating.

Clive pulled away, their lips making a smacking noise as they separated. Maurice kept his eyes closed. He was suddenly struck by the notion that if he opened them, he would wake up and it would have all been a dream.

“Maurice,” Clive said.

Maurice finally opened his eyes. He saw that Clive was out of breath and his face was flushed a beautiful red color, almost as if he had been taken by surprise by the kiss as well. It was the first time Maurice had seen him look even a little undone, and it was lovely.

“Maurice, I’m going to touch you now. And you’re going to let me.”

Maurice was aware that there were words coming out of Clive’s mouth, but they didn’t have the slightest meaning to him. It was as if the signals in his brain had been scrambled.

Clive reached down between Maurice’s legs and gently cupped the bulge in his trousers. Still dazed, Maurice’s eyes widened, not because he thought it was wrong or disgusting, but because he hadn’t known this was possible; that his friend could touch him this way. Clive leaned down and kissed him again, slowly. It felt like Clive was trying to communicate all his feelings in that kiss. While Maurice was thus distracted trying to decipher the message, Clive slipped his hand inside Maurice’s trousers and pants. Maurice moaned suddenly into Clive’s mouth, but that only made Clive push further. Maurice’s body felt so hot and unknown pleasure was filling every inch of it. He had recently given up on religion, but he was certain there was a God because this was happening.

Clive stroked him a few times, practically making Maurice’s body convulse with each touch. Maurice kissed him harder. When Clive’s hand retreated, Maurice nearly whimpered like a kicked puppy, but then Clive was kissing his jaw and his neck, and his hands were sliding down his chest, caressing him through his shirt. Clive slid down to the floor and ended up squatting between Maurice’s legs. He ran his hands up Maurice’s thighs and then undid his trousers and pulled out his member. Clive glanced up, and his eyes were so intensely blue that Maurice feared his chest might crack open. And then Clive took Maurice in his mouth. Maurice threw back his head and groaned in an agony of ecstasy. Everything was hot and wet and wonderful, but so intense that it blurred the line between pleasure and pain.

There wasn’t much of Clive that Maurice could reach, save for his head. He dug his fingers into Clive’s hair and grabbed it. At last Clive moaned. It was the response Maurice had been looking for. It filled his heart with joy. He tugged at Clive’s hair again, and again Clive moaned. As he hummed his pleasure, he increased Maurice’s as well. Clive massaged Maurice’s thigh as he continued to stroke him with his tongue and his beautiful pink lips. Maurice didn’t let up on pulling Clive’s hair. He loved the sound and the feeling of Clive moaning around him. Clive was trembling from it.

Finally Maurice could take it no longer. He gasped out, “Clive” as a warning. He groaned and shot into Clive’s mouth. His body convulsed for several seconds as he heaved for breath. Clive silently got up and went to wash his hands and face in the basin of water. It was the first time that Maurice thought that maybe they had done something wrong. As he tucked himself back into his trousers, he said, “Clive? Are you ashamed of what we did?”

Clive called to Maurice, still at the washstand. “You should never be ashamed of love, Maurice.”

“Love?” The word slapped Maurice across the face. “You mean to say... that is... you... love me?”

“Don’t talk rubbish,” Clive said as he walked back towards Maurice. “Of course I do.”

Maurice looked up at Clive as he stood over him. “And what we did, that was love?” he asked.

Clive sat on Maurice’s lap and put an arm around his shoulder. “A very special kind of love,” he said. “There are not many who know it.”

Maurice smiled to himself. “Shall I do it to you next time?” he asked cheekily. He grabbed at Clive’s sides and began tickling him ferociously. Clive squealed as they collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Stop it! Stop it!” he cried happily as he squirmed to get away.

“Tell me you love me!” Maurice said, as he refused to relent.

“I love you! I love you!” Clive said frantically. Maurice stopped tickling and Clive quit struggling. “I love you. Always,” he said more seriously.

Maurice smiled the biggest grin he ever had in his life, for he was more certain now than ever that he had a friend.


End file.
